The Night That May Have Happened
by AnnCarter
Summary: House is dead. And Cuddy mourns. Post finale.


**Name:** The Night That May Have Happened.

**Writer:** Ann.

**Fandom: **House.

**Rating:** R... Strong one.

**Pairing:** Huddy.

**Timeline:** Post Finale. Or rather, after the funeral.

**Summary:** House is dead. And Cuddy mourns.

**All rights for House reserved to FOX and David Shore. Unfortunately they're not mine.**

* * *

She was crying.

And she wasn't just crying. She was crying over a man. Over _him_.

Despite her complicated relationship with him, she never once stopped loving him. She never once stopped wanting him. And despite her denials, she _always_ needed him. More than anyone else, she missed him. She missed their weird dance, how in one moment they were boss and employee and in the other they were sort of friends, in House's twisted definition of friendship. The romantic relationship that was later added to the mess only messed things up more, but even then, she never stopped loving him.

Despite everything she knew about him — or maybe _because_ of what she knew about him — and the way she knew him, she couldn't believe he was really gone. True, he was a runner, a man who spent most of his life running away from problems instead of facing them. But she knew he could be there for his only friend too, and had done so before. And despite how hard she knew it will be for him to deal with Wilson's upcoming death, she just couldn't believe he really committed suicide in order to run away from it.

_But,_ her mind argued, _Wilson was there. If he wasn't dead, don't you think Wilson would have known?_

She could have argued, could have said it was just a fake, but the truth was Wilson truly seemed pissed. Pissed and in pain. She knew Wilson well, well enough to know this time he wasn't faking.

* * *

She didn't know what time it was when she woke up. She knew it was past midnight, since she only fell asleep at midnight, but she didn't know exactly what time it was. Nor did she know what woke her up.

She found out a moment later, when she heard the door to her room opening and someone walking in.

"Rachel?" She asked quietly, hoping it was just her daughter who woke up and needed shelter from some bad dreams she might have had.

"It's me."

She sat up immediately, shocked. That low, quiet voice was one she never expected to hear again. Not after the funeral that day. She never thought she'd get to talk to him again, and yet it seemed that he was standing right there, in her bedroom, waiting for her to speak.

She turned on the lamp on her nightstand. "Is this real?" She asked quietly, not dating to look at his face.

He stepped closer to her, clearly wanting her to look at him. "Yes. Well, it is as far as I know," He added quickly. There was a silence in the room for a moment before he spoke again. "Look at me."

She looked up, almost afraid to see the man in front of her. Yet as she looked at him she realized he was the same. His hair, his blue eyes, his face. He had a few cuts and burns on the skin of his face and hands, but other than that, he was just as she remembered him from the last time they met two years earlier.

Slowly, she left her bed and stepped towards him, still not sure whether or not to believe it. Without thinking, she reached towards him, gently cupping his face. He _felt_ real. The feel of his skin and the bristles on his face was so familiar that she nearly cried. Despite everything that's happened, she missed him.

She froze as a new idea crossed her mind. "How do I know it's not a dream?" She asked quietly.

Glancing around the room, House spotted a prescription bottle. "You took the pills?"

She looked at the floor and immediately spotted the sleeping pills she has been taking. "I don't think so."

He smiled gently. "Then I think we're okay." As soon as the words left his mouth he started laughing quietly, as if he remembered an old joke. A moment later she joined him, realizing that this was a reversed scene to the one that happened three years earlier in his house, after their patient died. She shook her head slightly, surprised how things turned out.

"I missed you," She whispered, her hand still gently stroking his cheek.

"You did?" He sounded slightly surprised... and vulnerable. "After... After what I did to you?"

"'I did horrible things to you. And I will do horrible things again, to you'," She quoted. "You are who you are. I never once stopped loving you, even after everything you did."

"Then why did you break it?" He seemed like he really didn't understand.

"Because I was your problem," she replied simply.

He stared at her, clearly doesn't know what to say. Eventually he spoke, but when he finally did, it had nothing to do with what she said. "I came to tell you I'm alive. I thought... Wilson thought you still care." His voice was quiet. It was one of those rare moments when House was as open as he could. She was happy to see he still trusted her enough to open up.

"I do."

"He told me you cried at the funeral." There was a slight question in his tone, as if he wasn't sure whether he was saying or asking it.

"I did." She confirmed. "I was surprised your mother didn't."

"I came to see her before it started," he said. "I didn't want... I didn't want her to go through the pain of losing me when I'm alive."

"So that's why you're here?" She asked, not noticing she was still stroking his cheek.

He nodded. "Other than Wilson and my mom... You're the person I care about the most." He admitted.

Her heart clenched. She knew he still loved her, even after they broke up and he got married. But hearing that didn't make it any easier for her. On the contrary- it made things much harder for her. Saying goodbye to him two years earlier was hard enough, even after all that he's done to her; saying goodbye now would be a lot more difficult.

He held her hand in its place for a moment before gently moving it away. Then he turned to leave before he suddenly stopped, remembering something. "Does Rachel still love pirates?" He asked quietly.

"Yes. They remind her of you," she replied, remembering her child's questions about House's return. She was so sure he wouldn't leave her and her mother alone, and Cuddy didn't have the heart to tell her he will never be back.

"Give this to her," He handed her a small bag, "Tell her it's from me. I'm sure she'll love that."

"Thank you."

Their eyes met for the first time that night, and couldn't disconnect. They couldn't stop looking at each other, each studying the other person as if that would be the last time they'll ever meet. Neither could deny the electricity that passed between them as they touched each other. Neither could pretend they didn't want the person standing in front of them.

"You want to kiss me, don't you?" She murmured, vaguely remembering that's what he told her she said when he hallucinated her.

And just like he replied back then, he quietly said, "I always wanna kiss you."

She moved closer to him, her arms automatically wrapping around his neck. At first he stayed still, unsure what to do. She knew he wanted her, it was written all over his face. But he wasn't sure whether or not he should do it — for her.

And so she made the first step. Her lips met his, and once again it felt so right she couldn't break the kiss. She gently parted his lips, waiting for him to response. He hesitated for another moment before his tongue slipped into her mouth and started making sure nothing has changed since its last visit. His hands wrapped around her waist, and a moment later, as the kiss turned more passionate, he was already busy taking off her shirt.

She let him, then hurrying to take off his leather jacket and shirt. He left her lips, moving down her body. His hand were already going over her body, touching every bit of skin, gently holding her as he lifted her into bed, and she moaned as his lips found the soft spots of her neck that he knew so well.

Soon afterwards the rest of their clothes joined their shirts on the floor, leaving them touching each other with no barriers. She moaned his name more times than any of them could count as his lips and hands travelled over every bit of her body, touching her in the most sensitive spots with the exact amount of pressure to give her the best pleasure. Even after all that time, he still exactly what she liked and what made her good.

"House..." She moaned again. He paused, looking up at her. "Come here."

He moved back up and her lips met his once again. It was slow and soft, a kiss of lovers, of a man and a woman who would continue loving each other until they die. Yet like in every sex they've had, it had the passionate, sometimes nearly animal part of it, the one that now made her turn them over and kiss him like there's no tomorrow. Moving down his body, she smiled as he moaned her name the way only he ever did. Between them, even in the most intimate place, it was sometimes House and Cuddy, not Greg and Lisa.

"Oh God," He murmured in response to her actions, as she reminded him she knows exactly what makes him happy.

She smiled. "I thought you don't believe in God," She murmured back, kissing her way back up to his lips, who hungrily took hers as soon as she got to them.

"There's no God," He murmured in her ear as he managed to get her underneath him again, "Only my Goddess." She had no doubt who he was referring to.

"Goddess?"

"I love you," He whispered, gently kissing her. His hands continued exploring her body as he spoke. "Always did. Always will."

She looked at him softly. "I love you too," She whispered back before meeting him for another soft, loving kiss. "I missed you so much..."

"Me too."

A few minutes later they both moaned each other's' names as they climaxed. Then, just like in their first time, she lay in his arms, snuggling against his side. His eyes met hers and they both smiled, in the first time in two years feeling whole.

"Where are you going?" She asked quietly long moments later.

"I don't know. Depends on Wilson."

"Will I see you again?"

"I don't know." He was quiet for a heartbeat. "I hope."

She gently pressed her lips to his and then closed her eyes, still snuggled against him. She felt him stroking her hair until she fell asleep, her limbs still mingled with his.

* * *

She woke up the next morning and rolled over in bed only to find herself alone. She quickly sat up in bed, looking around her.

The floor was clear. She was still naked, but both her clothes and House's were gone. She searched for the pills on the floor, but couldn't find them either. There was nothing left from what happened that night.

Knowing Rachel will soon be up, she quickly dressed up. Then she continued her search around the room, trying to find something that will prove that night really happened. She froze when she noticed a little pirate toy lying by the nightstand.

She quickly grabbed it, hoping to see a note with his handwriting on it, but there was nothing there. Only the new, shiny toy, which could have been brought in by anyone.

She sat down on the bed, sighing quietly. She wanted to believe it was true, that House was really with her that night. But all she had was hope. And so she hoped it was true... and that one day he will be back.


End file.
